Confrontation
by Audrie Melone
Summary: Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy realize they have feelings for the same woman.
1. Confrontation

Colonel Fitzwilliam stroked his chin as he examined the backgammon board, attempting to focus on his next move. He swirled his brandy around in his glass before he took a swig. The dinner party had departed not long before, taking Miss Bennet with them. He'd met a number of women—his mother never tired of parading them before him—and though she was not the most beautiful one he had ever encountered, there was something inescapably alluring about her that made him reluctant for her to leave his side. Her liveliness and wit were intoxicating, enough for him to begin to contemplate that sacrament held so dearly in mothers' hearts.

He ran a hand through his hair, as if to extract her from his thoughts. He moved his checker and looked up, expecting Darcy to grab up the die.

But his cousin sat across from him, uncharacteristically slouched in his arm chair. Darcy's gaze was unfocused, his brow furrowed in thought.

He cleared his throat. "It's your turn."

Absently, Darcy picked up the die and rolled. But he was already distracted before it had stilled. He had seemed distant all evening, speaking little. More than once over the past few evenings, during Darcy's odd, prolonged silences, Fitzwilliam had caught his cousin watching as he and Miss Bennet spoke.

"Fitzwilliam, have you ever contemplated the proper age at which a man should marry?"

The colonel sat back. He'd feared that Darcy would broach this. He knew as soon as he had caught Darcy watching him that his cousin would point out that which he was trying to find a way to circumvent. Miss Bennet would come with little income.

Instead, he said jovially, "We are young yet, are we not?"

"Indeed. But I suppose if we came upon the proper woman, it would not be too soon at our present standing."

"Truly?" Perhaps Darcy was right. It may mean living more modestly than he was accustomed to, but he was to inherit a part of his father's estate. The additional income could compensate for what Miss Bennet could not offer.

"What have we to wait for? We have established ourselves, our futures are not uncertain."

"That is true."

"But suppose she has little to recommend her?" Darcy's attention was engaged now, his gaze penetrating.

"I would say we are established enough that it should matter little."

His cousin nodded to himself, and the colonel was relieved to see he agreed, or at least took what he said into consideration. "But she won't be welcomed. There will be no advantage to the marriage-it is all to the lady's advantage, they will say."

Fitzwilliam ran a hand over his face. He had not thought of that. Would it be fair to have all of her new acquaintances look down upon her? But Miss Bennet would rise to the occasion. Few would not be drawn to her charm. Perhaps his family would disapprove, but he was little interested in status. He would rise through the ranks, retire and establish what property his father had allotted him. His father would not be enthralled by the suggestion, but he could be prevailed upon.

"If we speak of a particular lady, I believe a consensus could be reached. After all, the younger son of a Lord is left to fend for himself. That must be a credit to his independence that will allow him to choose more freely than his elder brother."

"Perhaps," agreed Darcy, lifting the colonel's spirits. "Of what lady do you speak, though?" His cousin looked slightly bewildered.

Fitzwilliam blinked. "I thought we spoke of," he felt his cheeks warm. He had assumed Darcy meant, "Miss Bennet."

"Yes, I—," Darcy paled, then flushed. He stood so quickly that his chair rocked. When he grabbed it to steady it, his knuckles were white. "You can't have feelings for Miss Bennet."

Fitzwilliam rose himself. "And why not? You said yourself it was not impossible."

"But I spoke, I asked," he shook his head, at a rare loss for words and composure.

Suddenly, Fitzwilliam began to comprehend his cousin's questions, his glances, his unusual silences. "This is preposterous," he burst out. "She has no feelings for you!"

His cousin retreated a step, appearing as if he had been struck. The stirring in the colonel's chest prevented him from having any sympathy for Darcy.

Darcy's face darkened. "And you're certain of her affection?"

"More certain than I am of hers for you."

The room was quiet as each considered his position, awaiting the next strike.

Darcy's voice was calm, yet chilled, when he spoke. "You could never marry her. You cannot afford her poor connections or her small income. Your infatuation would give way to the strain she would place upon your rank." He gave a curt, ironic bow to Fitzwilliam. "I thank you for bringing me to my senses before I confessed my feelings to a woman so far beneath my position."

He pivoted and strode from the room.

Fitzwilliam glared after him for a moment. He slammed his glass down on the table, making the forgotten backgammon pieces jump out of place. His cousin was right. He could not marry Miss Bennet without detriment to everything he had. He was merely infatuated with her charms. Darcy's barb rankled him. Miss Bennet was beneath his rank and unable to seal the security of his position as a woman of wealth could. Only Darcy, inheritor of his father's entire estate, controller of his family's wealth, could even consider the disadvantaged match. Only Darcy could marry whomever he liked.

As quickly as it had flared, Colonel Fitzwilliam's anger abated. His cousin would have to contend with their aunt if he chose Miss Bennet over Anne. He smiled.

He would restrict his interactions with Miss Bennet to mere flirtation and put marriage from his mind.

He went to the service and refilled his glass with brandy. From what he had heard from and knew of Miss Bennet, she would not be flattered by his cousin's affections. If he were honest with himself, he believed any woman would be fortunate to marry his dashing, intelligent and painstakingly fair cousin. And, in truth, he felt Miss Bennet's estimations of Darcy slightly off. But he almost laughed, thinking of her indignation were she to know his cousin's true feelings.

Fitzwilliam gulped the brandy and smacked his lips in satisfaction.


	2. Rejection

"Really, where is that boy?" demanded Lady Catherine. "The dinner gets cold! Fitzwilliam, fetch your cousin since none of the servants seem capable of doing so."

"Perhaps he does not want to be fetched, then. He has sent his regrets."

His aunt rapped the table with her fan. "If he is not ill, I see no reason he shouldn't join us. Fitzwilliam fetch him!"

A single look silenced any of his protests and with a sigh, he pushed himself from his seat. He would not tell his aunt, but he too was curious about what had gotten into his cousin. He had set out on foot early that morning, and to the colonel's knowledge, had not returned until much later.

Colonel Fitzwilliam knocked on the door of his cousin's chambers. "I say Darcy, you're ruffling the Peacock with your refusal to attend dinner," he called.

The silence extended long enough for the colonel to consider knocking a second time. As he raised his fist to pound at the door, Darcy spoke curtly. "I sent my regrets by the servants."

Ignoring propriety, as he often did with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam tried the handle and when he found the door unlocked, opened it.

Darcy whipped around. His face was flushed and his lips so taught, they were hardly visible. His glare seared, and the colonel raised his hands against it, taking an unconscious step back.

"I asked not to be disturbed! Was the instruction unclear?"

In all their years as companions, the colonel had only once seen such anger seethe through his cousin. He had shed his control and his fists were clenched. Fitzwilliam felt the stirrings of a desire for a glass of brandy.

"Wickham hasn't tried to run off with Georgiana again, has he?"

"No."

"Well," the colonel exhaled in relief. He scratched his head at the twitch in Darcy's cheek. He wondered what else could have so riled his cousin. "Our aunt says if you are not ill, you ought to join us for dinner."

"We are leaving." Darcy turned back to the window.

"Very well, but could we do so after dinner at least? I have been looking forward to it and would prefer to dine before beginning our journey. And might I know the reason for this sudden departure? I have been rather enjoying my stay and am not particularly inclined to leave on such short notice."

Darcy's fists tightened. "She refused me."

The colonel's eyebrows rose. "Of whom do you speak?"

"Do not be smug, Fitzwilliam."

"It is only that you sound taken aback. I was beginning to wonder if all women fell at your feet. It is reassuring to know that you remain human. Did she say why?"

He was enjoying his cousin's rejection more than he ought.

"She had many reasons. None of which I need share with you."

"I may perhaps venture a guess. She was particularly interested in the story of the separation of a particular young woman from one of your friends. Was this young woman a friend of Miss Bennet?"

"Her sister."

"I see."

"Her accusations were unfounded."

"On all accounts?"

"Certainly!"

"Then I suppose once you set her aright, she shall gladly accept your hand." The colonel certainly did not believe this to be so, but he knew that there were matters that his cousin continued to withhold and would never reveal upon direct examination.

Darcy began to pace, his steps clipped and his fists still clenched. "She accused me of defaming Wickham." His cousin choked on the name and even Fitzwilliam twitched with disgust. The bastard had nearly made off with Georgiana. Fortunately, he had only learned of the event through a letter from Darcy. Otherwise, he was not sure that the son of a bitch would still be breathing.

"How was she misinformed?"

"Wickham was in Meryton. He pursued her for a time." Darcy appeared so miserable at this recollection that Fitzwilliam did not have the heart to tease him.

"I am certain if you provided enough details to inform her of his true character, Miss Bennet will weigh the evidence in your favor."

"You don't comprehend!" burst out Darcy, and his cousin was once again startled at his vehemence. "I have no credit in her eyes. She abhors me." He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. "I have never encountered such open repulsion."

The colonel could hardly gloat. He had not realized how attached Darcy was to Miss Bennet.

"It seems to me that if you set to rights the situation with your friend and Wickham, you may yet have a chance."

Darcy shook his head. "She told me that I was the last man in England that she would want to marry."

Fitzwilliam could not help a whistle and a chuckle. He was quite sure no one had ever put his cousin in his place so soundly as Elizabeth Bennet had. Again, he felt a twinge of regret that she was beyond his reach.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "If she is so decidedly opposed to marrying you, then I say you have nothing to lose by explaining the circumstances regarding Bingley and Wickham. It seems as if she could hardly detest you more."

"And you believe she will listen to a word I say?"

"Perhaps not," conceded the colonel. "But I shall vouch for you."

Darcy looked up. "You would do so?"

"As ill as you treated me, I ought not. But I suppose this time, I can make an exception. I believe she would take my word, if not yours."

His cousin looked as if the thought were hardly comforting, but he nodded, regaining some of his composure. Fitzwilliam savored even this small victory, knowing that the gentlewoman would take his word over Darcy's.

"I suppose I ought to write her a letter, as I don't think she will remain long enough to hear whatever I have to say."

"I will go tomorrow to speak to Miss Bennet, should you decide to alleviate her misunderstanding. But whatever you decide to do, may I beg that you at least come to dinner now? Her ladyship has grown impatient, and I am sure is now on the verge of disowning both of us. It may mean little to you, but I need whatever favor I can curry from my well-connected relatives."

"You are shameless."

The colonel heaved a tragic sigh. "I suppose my position in life has left me little choice. Dinner, then?"


End file.
